


A Beautiful Age

by harper_m



Category: Alcatraz (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harper_m/pseuds/harper_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy has always been a puzzle, but that's okay with Rebecca.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Age

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fireworks 12: The [Totally Not] Annual femslash_today Porn Battle. Prompt: hesitant.

Rebecca has to remind herself that it’s been nearly 60 years since Lucy’s done anything like this, or at least she thinks so. She could never ask. For all the hints of wicked slyness she catches when Lucy is pleased with herself, there’s something about her that wards off unwieldy questions – especially those about the past.

“This could never have happened, not then,” Lucy says. There’s a breathless quality to her usually razor-edged diction that hits Rebecca square in the sternum. “Well, it could have happened, of course, but…”

She trails off, momentarily lost in thought. Rebecca’s not interested in getting too mired in history, in shame and fear, so she steps forward and presses her lips against Lucy’s again. This has been building, over dates that aren’t dates and shy, lingering kisses, but now Lucy’s in her house. In her bedroom, taking in everything with the curious, clinical gaze she directs at everything.

“We live in a beautiful age,” Rebecca says, too gently for it to be mocking. She lifts Lucy’s glasses away, smiling as Lucy blinks, looking a little dazed now that her world has gone soft around the edges. Carefully, deliberately, Rebecca closes them, placing them on the table by her bed. It’s heady, the thought that she’s the only one who gets to see Lucy like this, the loss of her glasses softening her in some indefinable way. It opens her up, strips away some of the academic frost. She looks younger, less guarded. It’s intimate, private, and, Rebecca thinks, all hers.

Self-possessed as she usually is, she doesn’t think Lucy knows she’s an inadvertent tease – every professional and tailored button-up unbuttoned far enough to showcase her slim neck, the hollow at the base of her throat, the barest hint of clavicle, the teasing curve of a breast – making it so very hard for Rebecca to keep her thoughts on the straight and narrow. 

“There were kisses before,” Lucy says, cheeks darkening with a blush. Rebecca nods, not sure what she’s saying, but patient enough to wait until Lucy gets there. “It was all very secret, you know. We couldn’t risk being caught.”

She’s never thought of herself as being particularly sensitive, but Rebecca thinks she gets what Lucy is trying to tell her.

“We can stop whenever you want,” she says, sliding her arm around Lucy’s waist. Lucy’s long, dark hair tickles against the back of her hand, and she’s looking up at Rebecca from under her lashes in a way that isn’t quite shy but is still uncertain. Rebecca has seen plenty of gorgeous women in her time, but she thinks that none of them compare. Not with Lucy standing so close, her hand resting on Rebecca’s shoulder with a slight tremor that’s barely noticeable. “We’ll do whatever you want, nothing more.”

The earnest promise seems to embolden Lucy. Her other hand comes up to push Rebecca’s short hair back behind her ear and lingers there. Soon, her palm is pressed against Rebecca’s cheek, and she’s tilting her face up for another kiss, surer this time.

“Is it really so different?” she whispers between kisses, when Rebecca’s fingers find the top button on her shirt.

She knows it’s not really the time, but Rebecca can’t help breaking the solemnity of the mood. “There may have been a couple of technological advancements, but I’m pretty sure we’re still doing it the same way humans have since we lived in caves.”

Lucy’s sly, hidden side makes a brief appearance in the wicked curve of her smile. “Perhaps you’ll have to introduce me to these wonders,” she says, her voice that of the proper schoolmistress.

Rebecca’s been good all of her life. She’s been taking the possibility that nature might lead her astray and fighting mightily, but the thoughts that flit through her mind at the words are decidedly naughty. Her mouth goes dry, but she restrains herself. She doesn’t shout ‘Yes, please’ or shred cloth in her haste to make her way to that soft, waiting skin.

“We can try it the old-fashioned way first,” she murmurs, working her way slowly through the rest of the buttons.

All anyone has to do is look at her car to know Rebecca values speed, but there’s no rush. She can push Lucy’s shirt off of her shoulders like she’s unwrapping a gift, letting it catch at Lucy’s wrists, leaving Lucy caught in the illusion of vulnerability.

She doesn’t usually talk this much, but there’s something about Lucy, an expectant quality, that almost seems to demand it. She’s never been a performer before either, but Lucy watches everything, takes in everything, and it makes Rebecca want to put on a show. So she eases out of her boots, her eyes never leaving Lucy’s, then slowly and deliberately undoes the buckle on her belt. The leather slides free with a hiss, and then Rebecca’s hands are on the button of her jeans. She pops it open lazily, feeling a smile spread across her face as Lucy swallows hard. The rasp of her zipper compounds things, leaves Lucy breathing fast and with a hungry look in her eyes that Rebecca likes.

She comes out of her shirt in a sharp, decisive move. It’s the thing that breaks Lucy’s stillness, that has her pulling her wrists free and surging forward, and Rebecca likes that even better. Whatever kisses Lucy was blushing over earlier have nothing on this one, Rebecca is sure, because Lucy’s hands are in her hair and her tongue’s in Rebecca’s mouth, assured and bold. There’s frenzy, and hands pushing and pulling at clothing, before the two of them tumble down onto the bed.

Lucy laughs, freely and gaily, and lets Rebecca push her onto her back.

“What?” Rebecca asks, grinning widely. She leans down for a long, slow kiss, only pulling back when Lucy’s laughter turns into a moan. “What?”

And then she’s the one who’s moaning, because Lucy’s hand is between her legs. Her smile is back, sly and mischievous, and Rebecca braces herself against the mattress and tries not to embarrass herself.

“I had plans for you,” she says, but it’s not a complaint. She can barely keep her eyes open, and she’s not going to last this way, so she pushes up so that she’s on her knees, straddling Lucy’s hips. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go, with her whimpering and grinding against the pressure of Lucy’s fingers. She’d been thinking about it for a long time, had pictured herself kissing her way down Lucy’s body until she was settled between her thighs. Her intention had been to stay there, Lucy’s taste on her tongue, until one or both of them was exhausted.

Instead, her hair falls around her face and she pushes it back with both hands, leaning back and closing her eyes, because this isn’t going to last much longer. She’s hardly even aware that she’s touching herself, cupping a breast with her fingers tightening on a nipple, until Lucy’s hand finds her other one and mirrors her actions.

“It appears you were correct about the mechanics,” Lucy says, and her voice has taken on a low, throaty tone that sends a shiver along Rebecca’s spine. And then her fingers are slipping inside, and Rebecca has to put a hand back on the mattress to support herself. It’s in her voice, that indulgent amusement, when Lucy asks, “Is this still acceptable?”

Rebecca doesn’t bother with an answer. She rolls her hips, following Lucy’s lead, aware of the way Lucy’s eyes are trained on her. Rebecca’s never been one to make much noise, but then again, she’s never been with someone so invested in hearing her. Lucy doesn’t even have to ask for it, just has to bite her lip and look at Rebecca the way she is. So she gives Lucy what she usually keeps private – breathless, needy noises and quiet gasps, audible proof of her desire and need. Lucy’s already dark eyes go black, and she presses up on one hand to meet Rebecca halfway. The kiss is hard and on the verge of out of control, and Rebecca digs her fingers into Lucy’s shoulders hard enough to leave behind bruises.

“Oh,” she whimpers, one hand sliding around to the back of Lucy’s neck. She brings their foreheads together, closes her eyes, and jerks hard against Lucy’s fingers. “Oh fuck.”

She’s still got plans, but for the moment, it’s enough to be where she is, in Lucy’s lap, with Lucy’s fingers inside her, moving slowly now.

“I thought…” she begins, surprised by how breathless she still is.

“Yes?”

It doesn’t matter, she realizes, leaning forward for another kiss. It’s better this way, with Lucy’s secrets surfacing one by one.

She puts a hand against Lucy’s shoulder, pushing her back against the bed. “Never mind,” she murmurs. She pulls Lucy’s fingers free of her and brings them to her lips, licking the taste of herself from Lucy’s skin.

There’s no rush.


End file.
